‘Give her to me, Sylc,’ Gyl demanded.
‘Welcome, your majesty,’ Orlac said, his voice betraying no emotion.
This politeness only served to unbalance his enemies further. He handed Lauryn gently into Gyl’s arms. The King had to drop his sword to take her and Cyrus, baffled as to what was going on, bent cautiously to pick it up.
It was a shock to see Orlac again, so alive, so much larger than life. He felt his gut twist at the sight of him, wondering whether the god would recognise him. Of course he would not, but it did nothing to comfort his sudden fear of the mighty power which stood before him.
Rubyn spoke, unable to tear his gaze from the golden man. ‘He says we are all in danger from someone called Dorgryl, especially Lauryn.’
‘You must run,’ Orlac added to the warning. ‘He will try and recapture her and in the process will kill all you. Every second you waste here threatens your life.’ He gazed at Lauryn. ‘And hers.’ He looked straight at Gyl. ‘Get her to safety.’
‘Why do you help us?’ Cyrus asked. The question was loaded.
The god shook his head and answered the most obvious. ‘She deserves her life. She is braver than all of us. Tell her father to await me. I come soon. Now go! Dorgryl will already be searching.’
Gyl and Cyrus began running but Rubyn lingered.
He nodded at the golden man. ‘You are more noble than we anticipated.’
Orlac smiled ruefully. ‘Don’t pass your judgement so soon.’
‘I am Rubyn. One of the Three.’
‘The Three?’
‘We will destroy you.’
‘You can try.’
‘We will meet again in the Heartwood.’
‘Appropriate. Are you her brother?’
‘I am Torkyn Gynt’s son, yes.’
‘Her puppy is somewhere about these gardens. If you see it, you must take him. His name’s Pelyss. She would miss him sorely.’
Rubyn looked at the golden man with curiosity.
Orlac suddenly felt the touch of Dorgryl on his mind. He flinched. He knew Dorgryl felt it.
Orlac nodded. ‘It is a privilege to meet you, nephew, but I suggest you leave right now.’
Rubyn stared at him for just a moment longer. He bowed once to his uncle. When he looked back he saw Orlac’s eyes had turned red.
The King had thrown Lauryn over his shoulder. It was not one of the most respectful ways to carry one of the three people on whom the Land’s survival counted, but he accepted it was the only way he could move quickly and efficiently and still keep his weapon arm free.
They were approaching the docks when suddenly Cyrus stopped.
Gyl turned. ‘What! What’s wrong?’
Cyrus looked stricken. ‘Oh Light! Oh no.’
Rubyn caught up with the two men. ‘What’s happened?’
Cyrus looked towards the palace and then back towards the docks. ‘How could I have overlooked them? I have to go back.’
‘Don’t talk madness, man. Why? Who are you talking about?’
Cyrus smiled sadly at the King. ‘Take her. Get the ship moving. Take my boy with you,’ he said, looking at Rubyn with love. ‘Do not wait.’
‘Cyrus! Where do you go?’ demanded Rubyn.
The soldier turned back to them, regarding their shocked faces. He took Rubyn into his arms and hugged the young man fiercely. Then he looked at the King. ‘I’m sorry, your majesty. I have left behind friends. In my anxiety I had forgotten they were here. Adongo and Juno…they are Lauryn’s Paladin. We cannot leave them behind.’
Gyl was out of his depth here but he could tell it had something to do with his mother’s magical friends, having heard the name Paladin before. ‘Cyrus. You cannot be serious. They must be injured or perhaps dead if they are not with her. You must come now.’
Cyrus was already moving away from them. ‘I would know if they were not alive. Get The Raven sailing. Rubyn…somehow get yourself and Lauryn to the Heartwood. Don’t wait for Herek either.’
He turned and ran back up the hill towards a place where angry gods lurked.
Dorgryl fled from the Bleak, gloating over how he had rid himself of Xantia and cleverly entrapped Lys. He had known she would not fail to choose Alyssa over him—she had to let him go to save her daughter. And Lys’s powers so well matched his own there would be no point in her trying to fight him to hold him in the Bleak and risk hurting Alyssa. No, he had given her the best option even though she did not like it.
Throughout his time in the Bleak, Lys had been there for every tedious moment. It was the only way she could maintain another god’s imprisonment. The only break in that power had come at the precise second Torkyn Gynt had accidentally blundered into the Bleak. Dorgryl laughed. Lys had faltered at the unexpected arrival and Dorgryl had taken his chance. And now she had faltered again. To save her daughter she had to leave the Bleak but in doing so relinquished her hold over him.
Oh how he loved it! Arrogant, stupendously confident Lys…thwarted not once but twice.
And where had Orlac got to, he wondered. He congratulated himself on not giving up his hold on the god’s trace. If he had done, Orlac might have been able to escape his sensing.
Suspended between the Bleak and arrival back in Orlac’s body he linked. You cannot escape me yet, nephew.
He reached out for his host and made contact. Orlac flinched.
Ah, there you are, he whispered and travelled urgently, arriving just in time to see a young man running away. Who was that?
No one special, Orlac said. With Dorgryl’s presence inside him, he felt ugly and abused again.
I was extremely impressed by your trick.
Which one was that?
The one where you go very quiet and pretend not to hear me. The one where you wait—oh so patiently—for a moment when my guard is down.
Oh, that one.
It will never work again.
Then I shall have to devise a new trick.
I presume she is hidden then?
You are right.
I think I had finished with her anyway, Dorgryl said, casually. Nice body, your Lauryn has, but she never joined in.
Orlac deliberately kept his emotions under control. He took a deep breath. Dorgryl. I am finished with Cipres. I am finished with you. I now travel to finish Torkyn Gynt and fulfil my promise to Tallinor…whether you care for it or not.
Dorgryl did not so much as hesitate, speaking smoothly with a tone suggesting he was surprised Orlac had ever doubted him. Oh but I do, nephew. It was always our plan wasn’t it? And I do believe I owe you an apology. My behaviour has been abominable in taking over your body so completely. I don’t know what came over me.
Orlac knew he had one of two ways to go. He steadied himself, remembering Lauryn’s sweet smile and that he had won her freedom— which not so long ago had suddenly seemed all that counted—and he forced his voice to neutral; forbade his body to show in any way its fury. He lied just as smoothly as his uncle. You were right. I had lost my way for a while and you were correct to remind me that we show no mercy.
Oh? Dorgryl was not that easily fooled. He probed deeper, searching for any sign of guile and came up wanting.
Orlac continued, ignoring the probe as if he had not felt its touch. I cannot permit you to do this again. But I am somehow grateful that you did what you did. It has reawoken me.
Dorgryl laughed. It was edged in such cruelty, Orlac felt his control teeter. He could so easily take a knife to himself and end it all now. Dorgryl would then have to wander within the body of whomever happened to be passing by for he surely could not survive long outside of Orlac’s. But it was the vision of Lauryn which forbade him such action. The thought of possibly seeing her again made him choose life over death and this despair over peace. He knew they could never have anything between them except hate; he recalled how she had told him she would do everything she could to destroy him. And he had promised her there would be a confrontation between himself and his bro
ther.
Dorgryl’s amusement ended. I do not believe a word of it but if it means we are not going to fight over my possession of your body, then I’m happy to go along with this.
You do not trust me?
No. Do you trust me?
You have not shown yourself to be trustworthy. But we have an agreement do we not? Once we have defeated Gynt and those who would protect him, I will help you defeat my father. Then we part company.
That’s an excellent plan. Dorgryl’s voice was tinged with sarcasm.
Once again, Orlac forced himself to remain focused and calm. Do you have a strategy?
It will shape itself. Do not fear on that account.
I mean how will you summon my father?
No need. He will be present. Trust me.
And although Orlac did not trust him, he smiled.
It was Gidyon who made it first into the clearing.
Gently, son, spoke the soft, smooth voice of Solyana.
The great wolf sat beside his parents. They were curled like lovers on the damp floor of the Forest. Not far away, Arabella and Sallementro sat stunned. The others came into view. Saxon’s eyes searched Sallementro despairingly—who would not meet his gaze—but then the Kloek did not need to be told anything. He had already felt the special brightness die within; guessed its import. It was the brightness which had been his connection to Alyssa since the moment he had seen her on that fateful day when the Cirq Zorros had introduced the famous Flying Foxes at the town of Fragglesham. He knew before this moment that Alyssa had gone to the Light; had known it the very second of her collapse amongst the forbidding Rork’yel Mountains. But he had not wanted to accept what he knew and so he had continued the charade of making it back here to see whether the Heartwood could save her.
Now he had to face the truth. Alyssa was dead. He was her Paladin and he had failed to protect her—had failed to give his own life for hers as was the creed.
Gidyon had halted in his tracks at the wolf’s words, unable to tear his eyes from the prone figures. A glance at Arabella and Sallementro told its own tragic story. Death was here. Saxon staggered past him and Gidyon’s two sturdy Paladin soon flanked him. Themesius pressed a hefty hand against one shoulder and he felt their Link open. No words were spoken but strength flowed through it. To his right, Figgis held his arm and joined the Link.
Be brave now, boy, the dwarf whispered.
Gidyon could not be brave; could not do much more than feel numb as he watched Saxon collapse to his knees next to Alyssa. He hated feeling it but relief coursed through his body when he saw his father stir and then rise to look about him. His face was dirty and tear-stained; his hair dishevelled; his expression as dead as the body which lay next to him.
‘She’s gone. I couldn’t save her,’ he mumbled and a heavy silence gripped them all as the words of truth were forced upon them and finally sank in.
The silence was broken by Cloot’s arrival. Something passed between Tor and his falcon because Gidyon saw fresh tears overcome his father as the bird settled on his shoulder.
Saxon stroked Alyssa’s hair and her cold cheek. It was the last time he would gaze on that beautiful face.
No more troubles for you now, my girl. I am undone by my failure. Forgive me for losing you, child. Be safe in the Light.
But Alyssa could no longer hear him.
Tor roused himself and Cloot moved soundlessly to the treetops above. Whatever the falcon had said had steadied Tor. He looked about him with new composure and felt the leaden grief of the others.
‘Darmud Coril could not reach her. It was her decision.’ He stepped towards his son and took him into his arms. ‘Your mother made a choice. I don’t understand it but she would never have left us without reason.’ He hugged his boy tight and then addressed the others. ‘Alyssa gave her life for something which threatened us. We must not let her sacrifice be in vain. We must prepare for the coming of Orlac.’
Solyana’s calm voice spoke. We must give her back to the trees.
‘No!’ Gidyon shouted, spinning around, tears stinging his eyes.
Themesius and Figgis were once again at Gidyon’s side as Tor bent down to pick up his beloved wife’s corpse.
It’s where she belongs, child, the wolf said.
Saxon bent and kissed the trailing hand. ‘Will Darmud Coril take her?’
Tor nodded. ‘Sallementro?’
The musician, stricken into silence, walked towards them and bent to kiss his bonded one. The others followed until there was only Tor and Gidyon left to say their farewell.
I will not say goodbye to her, Tor whispered into his mind. Somehow I will see her again. Perhaps not until we both meet in the Light.
Gidyon kissed his mother’s cheek, unable to check his emotion. Perhaps sooner, Father. I don’t believe she would let you go again so easily.
I don’t think she did, child. I think she let go with the greatest of difficulty.
They heard Darmud Coril’s voice summoning them.
‘My children,’ he said, with great sadness in his lovely face. ‘Give me our beloved Alyssa. I must return her body.’
‘Where to?’ Gidyon asked.
‘To its rightful place,’ the god answered.
Orlac saw the man approach but shielded the sight and any knowledge of it from Dorgryl, who was, as usual, airing his thoughts. Orlac rubbed his eyes as though a piece of grit was bothering him, and pretended to pay attention to Dorgryl’s comment.
I don’t believe our friends in the tower are telling us everything, the elder god mused.
Oh? replied Orlac, turning his back on Cyrus. Why would the man be so stupid as to come back? And for what?
There’s more to them than meets the eye, as I always suspected. Speaking of which, what’s wrong with yours? I can’t see a thing.
Dorgryl’s words suddenly threw open a door in Orlac’s mind. Of course! Titus and Juno had been protecting Lauryn. Who were they? He turned his back on Cyrus who was hiding in the shadows. Orlac sensed the man cast out. So, the soldier too was not what he seemed. Dorgryl continued to talk but Orlac ignored him; he needed time to think. He sat down on a nearby bench, deliberately turning his shoulder from Cyrus but keeping his senses open to him. Now Dorgryl sounded cross.
Orlac flashed inside. What?
I asked, repeated the elder god, what we are doing here? Smelling the lavender?
No! Leave me alone. I wish to think.
Dorgryl had more to say but Orlac stopped him.
Withdraw! he commanded. He felt stronger for having said it. He remembered the ugly feeling of Dorgryl’s possession of his entire body. He would never allow that to happen again.
His uncle became sulky. Tell me when you’re ready to talk. We have plans to make.
Orlac inhaled the night air and allowed his thoughts to roam. If Titus and Juno had been protecting Lauryn from the start, it meant they had known from the beginning who he was. He thought about Juno and the clever way in which she had always handled him—never discourteous or even vaguely disobedient and yet never quite under his control. Those watchful eyes, that careful, cautious manner of hers. He took himself back to their first meeting and realised how skilfully she had dissuaded him from bedding her which had been his full intention. Why? She was not afraid of him as the others in the palace all were. No, Juno was not afraid, she was respectful—and he knew that respect was not born of fear. It came from something far more subtle. He racked his clever, agile mind until the answer came to him. Until what had been staring him in the face for so long finally settled into place.
Juno was of the Paladin.
He had no proof of this—he just knew he was right. The Juno he had known had been mightily empowered yet aged, and this young woman was many ages her junior, but he accepted they were one and the same. And Titus…he did not even have to think long on this. He was the Moruk, Adongo. Of course. It made sense.
And this man, creeping around the Ciprean gardens, had surely returne
d to rescue the Paladin. Why else would he risk so much? Although Orlac had spent aeons battling the Paladin he had to admire them. Their courage was vast.
Another idea hit him. Perhaps this soldier was Paladin too. He was sentient, so why not? Orlac considered it for a moment and then could not stop the smile spreading on his face.
Cyruson…the old rogue. The wiliest of the ten. He had always liked him. Light! He had silently admired all of them and the way they pitched themselves against such power. And here they were again defying him.
What are you smiling about? Dorgryl asked.
‘I was just thinking,’ Orlac said loud enough for Cyrus to hear, ‘that I don’t wish to go to the dungeons tonight.’
But I want to question them. Why do you speak aloud?
‘Because it pleases me to do as I wish. Not as you wish. If I choose to speak aloud I shall and if I don’t want to go to the guardhouse and speak to the maid or the Moruk, I will not.’
And if I do? Dorgryl asked, confused by the sudden change which had come over his host.
I care not what you want. You will do exactly as I wish now, uncle. I am tired. I wish to sleep.
I shall keep you awake.
I think not. I shall let you know in the morning my plans for Tallinor.
Why wait so long?
Because it is the early hours of the morning. Later, rested, I shall think clearly. It’s your own fault for exhausting my resources so.
Why do I feel you are up to something?
No secrets, uncle. We want the same thing, you said. Let me rest this body of ours and tomorrow we sail for Tallinor.
In the shadows, Cyrus could not believe what he was hearing. Was it a trap? Or was Orlac deliberately conveying to him where to find those he had returned for? It puzzled him. Orlac was too dangerous to second guess so he dipped deep into his own instincts to gauge their advice.
Distracted in thought but noting that Orlac had drifted away into the gardens and was, he hoped, bound for his own chambers, Cyrus did not hear the man come up behind him. When a hand landed on his shoulder only his years of training prevented him from shouting out.
He turned, raising his sword, so alarmed that it took him a moment to realise it was Herek who had startled him.
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